Hey All, I just got back from two weeks of exploring Desolation Sound. Wow!
What an incredible and beautiful place to cruise! I was joined by a couple M
boats from our local gang, Rick and Melanie Agrella in M23 Raven, and Gary
Hyde in M17 Hydeaway 2. There would be way too much to report to try to
cover it all here, so I'll try to just mention some of the highlights.
Picture an anchorage with bare granite outcroppings that remind you of the
Great Lakes, surround it with thick rain forest full of huge cedars, moss
covered maples, and ferns filling in underneath. Then back it up with steep
towering rugged mountains that drop right down into the sound, top them with
huge snowfields and cornices, and add waterfalls to decorate the cliffs.
Surround your little cove with channels through the rocks that join numerous
other coves that are all just as beautiful as yours. Be sure to explore it
all at high tide with your kayak, because at low tide you've lost 18 feet of
water and the channels are high and dry. This is Prideaux Haven.
A couple hours of great sailing has brought us across from Cortes Bay to the
famous headland Sarah Point. This is where cruisers truly enter Desolation
Sound, rounding this famous landmark and exclaiming "Wow!" Today we say
"Ug!" It's wet and grey. The low clouds hide the mountains behind, and the
wind has died. Motoring down the Malaspina Inlet is like boating on a
saltwater river, with currents, eddies, islands, and shallow shoals to
dodge. As we enter the inlet to our anchorage we begin to see them. A few at
first, then dozens, then hundreds. Soon they are countless. Jellyfish. Pure
white, almost luminescent, they go about their jelly business, puffing and
purging, puffing and purging, as if the rest of the world doesn't exist. We
anchor back in the left arm of the inlet, totally sheltered from every
direction. The water is calm and glass smooth. Beneath the surface, puffing
and purging, puffing and purging. An eagle watches as we paddle to shore
to hike the muddy trail up to the fresh water lake above the anchorage. The
trail goes over fallen logs, under fallen logs, through berry thickets and
always the ferns and moss. The lake is small and the grassy shallows at the
end look like a moose should be there. A couple of loons eye us carefully to
see if we're a danger, and a beaver swims behind them to get in the picture.
When we get back to the anchorage, I paddle over to see where the creek from
the lake enters the cove. By pushing aside some low cedars branches brushing
the water, I am able to squeeze in between a couple rocks and find myself
floating in a fairyland. Completely hidden from the cove, the little cedar
grotto is highlighted by a stairstepping waterfall, dancing down through
moss covered rocks and fallen logs. Framed by overhanging cedars, it is
perfect. Simply perfect. This is Grace Harbour.
The 100 foot waterfall thundering into the box cove is almost dwarfed by the
cliffs beside it. Huge shoulders of rock, rising straight out of the small
bay, loom over me as I paddle my kayak toward the falls. I want to get
close, to feel the power, but the spray turns me away. We are anchored just
around the point in a "shallow' cove. Shallow as in the depth of the cove,
not the depth of the water. We each have two anchors out, dug into the
upslope of the steeply rising bottom, with a stern line ashore to keep us
perched on this narrow ledge. Finding a tree or the occasional ring to tie
our stern lines to is a challenge, but way up the cliff we succeed and the
lines angle steeply down to our boats. The next morning, at high tide, those
lines run straight to shore. We had to keep adding slack as the tide rose to
keep our anchor lines from getting too tight. Just at dusk, a big blue tug
style cruiser comes in and drops his hook right in front of us. Bang, clank,
splash! Gary, already turned in, pops out of his hatch to see what all the
ruckus is. The power boaters loudly congratulate themselves on arriving,
then go back inside and don't come out again. Early the next morning, they
are drifting a mile down the inlet on glassy smooth water, their anchor
chain hanging straight down. This is the Teakerne Arm.
I better quit there. This is already getting long and there are too many
more places to describe. You'll just have to go see them yourself. If you
do, don't be surprised when people recognise your Montgomery. We seem to get
noticed. A couple times in Desolation Sound we ran into sailors who had seen
us on previous cruises in the San Juan and Gulf Islands. I even ran into a
local gentleman who had read about CornDog on the internet. Incredible!
Larry Yake
M17, #200
CornDog
